Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1) (22 page)

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Authors: Martha Shields

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romance, #Fiction, #Forever Love, #Adult, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Sensual, #Hearts Desire, #Harlequin Treasury, #Series, #Cowboys, #Rescue, #Family Life, #Western, #Rancher, #Rodeo, #Teenage Sister, #Caretaker, #Household, #Manage, #Persuade, #Reconcile, #Relationships, #Marriage Minded, #General Romance, #Silhouette, #1990's

BOOK: Home Is Where Hank Is (Cowboys To The Rescue 1)
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Was that a cowboy hat?
The brief glimpse was snatched away as the master chef thrust himself into the crowd of waiters, busboys and chefs trying to push the intruder out.
Alex shook her head. She was hallucinating. It was just wishful thinking. Even if it were a cowboy hat, millions of people wore—
“Alex, where the hell are you?”
The shout penetrated every cell in her body. Hank. She’d recognize his bellow anywhere.
The group surrounding him stopped struggling and turned as one to stare at her. But their curiosity barely registered.
Hank was here. How?... Why?...
Her heart performed somersaults in her chest.
Monsieur Buchaude glowered at her. “This is your fault, Alexandra?”
“Let me pass.” Hank shoved through the restaurant workers. He stopped as soon as he saw her. His blue eyes bored into hers. “Alex.”
“Hank,” she whispered. Then she gathered her wits. “What are you doing here?”
Hank strode forward, put an arm behind her knees and swept her into his arms. “I came to take you home.”
Alex’s arms flew around his neck. Home. The word burned through her like strong liquor—warm, sweet, comforting. Oh, how she’d missed him.
He turned to leave, but the doors were blocked by Monsieur Buchaude.
“What is the meaning of this, Alexandra?”
“I don’t know, Monsieur Buchaude. I—”
“She quits,” Hank said, then strode forward. “Out of my way, little man.”
The chef scooted out of the way shouting curses in his native tongue.
As Hank shouldered the swinging doors open, Alex kicked her feet hard. “What do you think you’re doing, Hank Eden? Let me down this instant.”
“Hell, no.” He threaded his way through tables of richly dressed, gaping patrons.
Alex only stopped kicking when her foot sent a woman’s rhinestone and feather hat flying off her carefully coifed hair. Her face flaming, Alex buried her face against his neck. “Damn you, Hank Eden. You’ll pay for this!”
He placed his mouth against her ear and murmured, “Promise?”
His warm breath made Alex’s head suddenly light. As the restaurant receded from her mind, she closed her eyes and tightened her hold. She felt his heart pounding against her cheek and inhaled his familiar scent. Her own heart hammered in reply. These strong arms felt like home. She took a deep breath, savoring the moments wrapped in his warmth.
Reality intruded when he set her on her feet. They were in the parking lot of the exclusive restaurant, beside a rented black sport vehicle.
Hank reached into his pocket for keys.
Alex yanked the tall, poufy chefs hat from her head and backed away. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Oh, yes, you are. I told you, I’m taking you home.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What makes you think you can waltz in here and carry me out like a sack of feed?”
He gave up trying to find the right key and spun to face her. “Because you love me.”
Her breath caught, and she froze to the pavement. “How do...why do you think that? I told you—”
He took a step toward her. “Why else would you call the Garden several times a week to check on my progress in the rodeo?”
“Claire told you,” she said accusingly. “I knew she couldn’t keep her—”
“You told me. On the answering machine.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Admit it, Alex. You missed me.”
She stared into his sexy blue eyes. She shouldn’t tell him how miserable she’d been for the past two months. Shouldn’t let him know how each day was more painful than the last. Shouldn’t even hint that she couldn’t eat or sleep for worrying about him, that she didn’t give a damn about which sauce went with salmon and which with pork tenderloin. But God help her, she didn’t have the strength to drive him away again. “Yes, you sorry son of a cross-eyed snake. I missed you. There, I said it. Are you happy—”
Her words were cut off by his lips. Surprise held her stiff for an instant, then she wrapped her arms around him and poured all her love into the kiss.
Hank leaned her against the car and ground his hips into hers.
Alex felt his arousal and nearly wept with frustration. She wanted him so badly she ached. She tore her mouth away.
“Stop. Please!”
His head rose a bare inch from hers. He stared down at her, his breathing as labored as her own. “You’re right. We can’t make love here.”
“We can’t make love at all.” She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Damn it, Alex, don’t go cold on me now,” he growled. “I’ve been living through hell the past two months, wanting you. And after that kiss, you can’t tell me you haven’t wanted me, too.”
Alex searched the face that had been haunting her dreams. That’s exactly what she should tell him. But she couldn’t summon the desire or the strength. “No, I can’t tell you that. It would be the biggest lie I ever told.”
“Then why are you pushing me away?”
“Because...” She had to swallow to straighten out the knots in her throat. “Because I love you.”
He stared at her so long she thought he hadn’t heard her quiet words. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her under one of the parking lot lights.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see your face.” He stopped suddenly and hauled her around to face him. “Say it again.”
Restaurant patrons arriving or leaving stared at them, but Alex ignored them. “I love you, Hank Eden.”
“More than the Garden?”
“More than the Garden. More than French cooking. More than Sugar. More than anything else in the world.”
His eyes blazed with emotion, and his hands tightened on her shoulders. “Even though I’m not too good at telling people what’s going on?”
She smiled softly. “You’re learning. Claire said you’ve been calling several times a week, letting them know which rodeo you were headed to next and talking about what Travis is doing with the ranch. She said Travis never even did—” Her breath caught as Hank suddenly sank to one knee. “What are you doing?”
He pulled her hand against his heart. “Marry me, Alex. I love you, and I want you, and I need you. I always will.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to scream “Yes!” at the top of her lungs, but first she had to know. “What about the rodeo? You wanted to win a gold buckle. I don’t want to tie you down. I don’t want you to look at me one day and know I kept you from going after your dream.”
Hank stood and captured her chin. “I am going after my dream. Don’t you see? The rodeo was my dream when I was a boy. I just never let it go. You taught me what’s really important. The Garden. Claire and Travis. But mostly you. You’re my dream, Alex. The dream of a man, not a boy.”
Alex’s heart raced for the clouds. “Oh, Hank.”
“And why the hell does everyone keep telling me what I want?”
“We thought you’d been dying to get back to the rodeo for eight years. Travis thought you resented the Garden and having to raise him and Claire, because you never won a championship. He thought you resented him because of his gold buckle.”
Hank looked away, his eyes narrowed. “I reckon maybe there was a little of that in my decision to sell the Garden. Okay, maybe a lot. But just at first. When I finally realized what I’d be giving up if I left, I knew I didn’t want to go anywhere.”
“And what would you be giving up?” she asked.
He met her gaze squarely. “You. Darlin’, you’ve put me through hell the past two months. I’ve never been more miserable in my life. Every time a rodeo was over, I just wanted to head home. Then I’d remember you wouldn’t be there, so what was the point? I’ve done nothing but think about you—during the long drives, while I waited for my turn to ride or rope, at night in one fleabag motel after another. Hell, the nights especially. You even haunted my dreams.”
“I did?”
“Waking and sleeping.” He slipped his arms around her and drew her close. “Marry me, Alex. I want to live with you at the Garden for the rest of our lives. Will you come with me and make it a home for both of us, and for our children and grandchildren?”
Tears sprang to her eyes. She’d finally learned what home was. Home was not the place where you set your dishes. It was not a hearth, but a heart. Hank’s heart, and her own, beating together.
She ran her hand lovingly along his jaw. “Yes, I’ll marry you...and live with you wherever you want to live. Because wherever you are, that’s my Eden.”
 
 
And the Garden of Eden
continues to flourish!
Look for Claire’s story
in late 1998 or early 1999 as
she meets the man of
her dreams!
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6610-0
 
HOME IS WHERE HANK IS
 
Copyright © 1998 by Martha Shields
 
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
 
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
 
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
 
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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